


A Tale of Two Beasts

by Keaton Collective (Creeper_Keaton)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, No Beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creeper_Keaton/pseuds/Keaton%20Collective
Summary: A Beast, the stories told, lived there. A creature of pure malice and bloodthirst. It had indulged in so much innocent blood that its very eyes glowed with their crimson life force.(The baker's cousin's fiancé had seen it devour a deer, bones and all, in the blink of an eye. Cross his heart and swear to the heavens)To say the castle was avoided was an understatement.
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 146





	A Tale of Two Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unedited, just needed to write something to break a block. This is... Experimental?
> 
> Beauty and the Beast-esque, as told by someone who is not a fan of the story.

In a little corner of a little kingdom, there was a dark and treacherous castle. It was talked about in myths and legends only, because no one dared venture near.

The village was blighted with the dark castle, and oft did the inhabitants gather at local pubs, muttering and cursing. They traded tales as easily as the they traded coins for ale.

A Beast lived there, they said. Malicious and blood-thirsty, for all the shrieks that could be heard on still nights.

A spider, said others. Laying shining webs in the forest, robbing them of their would-have-been-legendary game. The baker's cousin's fiance had once  _ seen  _ it devour a deer, bones and all, in the blink of an eye. Cross his heart and swear to the heavens.

And yet others spoke of a metallic menace, some unearthly creation that needed neither sleep nor food. An abomination.

All stories differed, as the opinions of folks tend to. But they all had one thing in common.

A towering creature with glowing red eyes.

For years, it was the hot topic of debate in the early evenings. Bets were placed as to the true nature of the Beast (no one could get into the elaborate stone castle, so those bets were settled with friendly taunts and a pint).

This was the state of the village for nearly a decade, friendly debates and veiled fear. It wasn't wholly comfortable, wasn't a selling point to their slowly burgeoning town. But it was their quirk, and it made them unique. A tolerable trade-off.

And then, one afternoon, everything was thrown into chaos when a second castle fell.

* * *

Hordak enjoyed his peace. The creatures of this planet were particularly exhausting, screaming and running when he first showed his face. (It had hurt, and he would never ever admit that). Their fear meant he could enjoy his new home in relative tranquility.

(The thought that silence meant no brothers, no connection of minds, was locked in a mental vault to never be reviewed as long as he remained alive.)

He spent his first weeks checking about his domain, from the massive ship-turned-castle to the sprawling grounds. He was quietly pleased by the rolling green fields and running streams of crisp drinking water. The dark forest between himself and the village was less welcoming, and he made no effort to venture there.

Those first weeks were the hardest, and he spent most of his time outdoors. The warmth of the sun was foreign against his skin, and he found he wore less and less of his old regalia as time wore on. The calls of wild creatures made a blanket of noise, the background hum so close to what he had been cut off from. It made his chest ache in a way he was not familiar with.

After those introspective and weak days bled by, he found himself drawn once more to the machinery and technology of his ship-castle. He spent little time making a living space, sure he would not be locked on this planet long. Instead he ripped apart various machinery and tried to create, well,  _ anything _ .

But he was only a clone in an army of thousands. Not even that anymore, as the silence in his mind reminded him. His purpose had never required him to understand the basics needed to get the ship running again.

By the fourth month on this planet, he felt the first hints of-  _ resignation.  _ The loneliness had encompassed him from the very beginning, but he had always had hope. Hope that he would rise again, hope that this burden of silence would be stripped from him and he would be welcomed back with open arms.

But, it seemed, that was not in the cards for Hordak the Cursed, a blight of darkness in the Light That Was Prime.

* * *

Hordak sighed as he rifled through yet another box, wincing as his weakened hands cramped during the search. He shook them loose, trying to ignore the spidering veins that traced his white skin. In the 10 months since his-  _ departure _ \- the weakness had spread, eating through his muscles. He was a wasted form of what he had once been.

A wasted,  _ frustrated _ , form.

Yet another tool was missing from his workbench. Hordak was nothing if not fastidious, and this was the  **third** tool he had lost this month.

(If he kept losing them, was he not fastidious? Was he finally just 'nothing'?)

The box revealed nothing of use, and he snarled as he shoved it back onto the shelf. It was too cold to be outside (his body was too thin now to stave off the deep chill), and now he was at a standstill with his most recent project.

He dropped into a chair (it was a hideous thing, just a command chair he had pilfered from the control room. But he had added flaring metal pieces and patchwork embellishments during one of his weaker moments. The chair bore a childish resemblance to one he longed to see again, in another control centre, in a happier time. Would Prime be angry to see such a poor representation of his own throne? Or would he take it as a sign of Hordak's undying loyalty?), running a hand over his face. Without that tool, he would not be able to work on his food synthesizer.

And he was running dangerously low on rations.

He jolted slightly, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Was he already so weak that he couldn't even stay focused on the task? He shifted, bracing himself to stand (the curse took more and more of him away every hour, it seemed), when he heard something.

He froze, ears flicking and swivelling as he tried to place the sound. Hollow and metallic, with a hint of a more organic rustling.  **Where** it was coming from was another story. He carefully slid from the chair, slipping down behind it as he swept his eyes around the dark room.

_ There _ .

A shape, darker still than the surrounding lab, towered over his machine. It's limbs were spindly things, many of them trailing over various elements like ivy tendrils. His ears flattened.

Prime may have cursed him to a meaningless life of silence and solitude, but that did  _ not  _ mean he was so desperate to welcome just any creature that stumbled into his Sanctum.

He rose to his feet with a hiss, both in pain and irritation. The sound cut through the space, and the creature froze.

"What. Are you doing.  _ In my castle." _

In his time on this planet, he had run into the occasional two-legger. It was always the same song and dance; he would hiss, they would scream and run, and he didn't have to deal with lesser forms of intelligence (they could speak, yes, but they were creatures driven purely by fear. Not worth his consideration in the slightest). But this creature was clearly not just some two-legger. Its body was a writhing cocoon of the thick purple ropes, a shapeless mass with countless appendages.

Those many spindling legs drew in to the centre mass, and slowly the creature turned and met his red gaze with one of its own. He might have been surprised by those glowing eyes if he wasn't immediately drawn to the flashing device clutched by the beast.

He lunged, claws catching the machine and snatching it back with a snarl. The creature made some noise, an echo-y little squeak, as he got right into its space. "You thief! How dare you, entering my Sanctum and pilfering like a common vagabond! Get out,  **get out!"**

It leaned back, not nearly as terrified or threatened as it really should have been. Then a tendril moved, grasping the edge of its black face and lifting what was apparently metal away.

Hordak blinked in surprise at the darkened face and round ruby eyes. She- he was certain it was a female, judging by the softness of the face- stared at him with… growing awe?

"You're  _ him! _ "

He leaned back at her excitement, ears flicking back. He did not remember exactly the last time someone had spoken to him.

"-What?"

"You're the Beast of the Castle! I've heard all about you! Oh, I never imagined you would catch me and we would get to actually talk, this is a development!"

"Catch-  **you!** _ You _ have been stealing my tools!?"

"I mean, I have been taking  _ unattended _ tools. I really had no way of knowing they were  _ yours _ ."

" _ They were in  _ **_my_ ** _ Sanctum!" _

She didn't look the least bit intimidated by his hissing and snarling. In fact, every time he hissed she seemed to move closer into his space.

"Was your Sanctum an airship of some kind?"

He blinked, derailed once again. She forged on, unbothered.

"Because I have been analyzing the exterior metals, and they are incredibly resistant to weather and various explosives." Why had he not noticed his castle being  _ blown up _ ? "And there seems to be some kind of- navigational software? It certainly displays much of the topographical surroundings, but it has an  _ altitude _ metre! Logically, that must mean it can go  **higher** !"

He found he hadn't stopped blinking in surprise, watching as she gesticulated wildly. The tendrils- he was realizing that, somehow, it was _some kind of fur-_ continued their various and seemingly random paths around the lab.

He snapped out of his stupid reverie only when he noticed a strand carefully wrap around a wrench.

He snatched it from her (the hair was stronger than him, he was dismayed to realize), and it came free after a sharp tug. He held it up, a barrier between them, as he growled, deep and intimidating. "You will  _ not  _ return to my lab. Not to steal my tools, not to  _ examine  _ my domain. You will leave," his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, the next sentence booming from him, " **and you will never return!** "

She didn't even flinch.

"How am I going to learn anything if I don't return, though?"

He gaped, anger bubbling but all of his tried-and-true outlets failing him.

"What  **are** you?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out, display his ignorance.

But she just grinned, hair casually fiddling with his precious food replicator machine. "Me? I'm just your neighbouring Beast of the Castle!" The machine whirred behind her, powering up easily after her fiddling. A small vial, held in place by a repurposed caliper, slowly filled with the thick grey substance that kept him alive.

His machine had created food.

By the time he realized the significance of it, he was alone in his Sanctum, a misaligned vent cover the only evidence of his recent visitor.

He glanced at the vial, then at the vent before scowling. Stretching as high as he could, he shouted into the echoing ducts.

"Do  _ not  _ think this means you are welcome back!"

* * *

Welcome or not, Entrapta returned whenever he didn't do vent checks frequently enough. No matter how he tried to keep her out, he would be bent over a fiddly project and a purple tendril would suddenly nudge a required piece into view.

At first, he tried to chase her out, he really did. But not only was she incredibly quick, he realized that he couldn't physically move her even if he wanted. So he learned to deal with the presence of the strange, spidery female. It certainly helped that she was highly intelligent. His machines were developing at an unprecedented rate.

But did she ever talk.

At first, he found it grating. She babbled about  _ everything _ . He wasn't used to hearing another voice, and he tried his hardest to shut her out. But then she started asking for his opinion, and he was forced to listen, if only so she didn't use technology unfamiliar to herself and blow something up ( _ again _ ).

After what was perhaps their third scientific debate, he found himself… enjoying the conversation. Once he wasn't trying to block her out, he realized she made many good points.  _ Incredible  _ points. And if he had something to say, she would go silent and listen to him.

Actually listen.

By the time they had created a small aerial recording device (she pointed out that the acronym spelled 'SARD' and took great pleasure in calling it Sardine, which made more sense when she cranked out dozens more little drones and proudly showed him their 'school of fish'), he had come to appreciate her company.

Perhaps even enjoy it.

And, because he was Hordak, enjoying something meant that it had to go terribly, terribly wrong.

The Sardines had been an easy enough diversion, and with the school darting about the woods, recording various landmarks (and terrified villagers), they moved onto larger projects. She had wanted to create a better food replicator, one that could create tiny sweet treats (he had firmly said no). He had wanted to create a laser (she had seemed interested, but ultimately decided it was too easy a project).

They settled on a compromise of sorts, an energy conversion device.

But the process of converting energy involved storing energy. And that had incredibly explosive undertones.

Her round purple form had been bouncing around, adjusting this lever or tightening that bolt. He was watching the energy level readings, pleased by the information. Then something had tripped, the machine pulled too much energy from his power grid, and the needle spiked from the safe green zone to a very dangerous red.

He reached for the closest tendril, trying to grab her, pull her away from the fluctuating energy. There was a searing flash, oddly muffled, before his vision went black.

* * *

Waking up felt like his first day on the planet all over again. The world felt heavier than his time in space, and moving felt like wading through honey. He groaned, forcing his eyes open with much effort.

His body was cradled in a familiar purple cocoon, and he blinked in confusion. It took a long while to follow the path of the hair, but eventually he found his eyes tracing the profile of his lab partner.

He had… never considered the fact that she might have a form under the writhing mass that was her hair. He wasn't at all familiar with the creatures of this planet, and it had seemed an awkward thing to bring up. But with her hair wrapped around him, supporting him, none of it was left to shield her.

Her form was… pleasing.

Small, very small in stature. He wouldn't have believed it by both her presence and the fact that she was always eye level with him. But if they were to stand next to each other now, feet on the floor, she might just reach his chest.

(There were other things that caught his eye, less pure thoughts that he tried to squash. Clones did not have such thoughts. Impurities must be cast aside.)

He carefully shifted, his ravaged body protesting the whole time. Hair supported him, lifting him until he was seated. He had not been aware she had noticed his alert state. He waited until he was sure he could sit on his own before he lifted his gaze to hers.

Clones were not supposed to feel. That didn't hush the burning sting of shame. Now she knew how weak he really was.

She was fidgeting her hands, and he focused on that. Short fingers, clad in thick gloves. Perhaps her hands were slim and dainty, the gloves adding an illusion of girth. But with the sureness that she handled machinery, he felt graceful hands would be wrong. No, under those gloves she would have strong hands, marred with experience.

She ducked her head at his scrutiny, moving her hands to tap out a cadence on her thighs.

"I have problems with contact."

He blinked, looking at her face. She kept up the tapping rhythm, and he found himself counting in time.

"Usually the world is a little too  _ much _ . And one day I curled up in my hair, and it just got better. Then it became a habit, and before I knew it I just kind of- became a legendary Beast of the Castle."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we all have something that defines us, whether it be good or bad. And for me, it's hiding behind my hair."

"That is not what defines you to me. Your- your brilliance is the foremost thought."

"Thanks, Hordak. But what I'm trying to say is, I know it's not perfect. But imperfections are what allow people to be unique. They are nothing to be ashamed of at all!"

He was silent, contemplating. When he spoke, his voice was icy.

"I am a failed clone. I am not allowed to be unique. I was not  _ created  _ to be unique."

"You're unique to  _ me." _

He started at her tone, soft and gentle. If she said more, he might have shut down, turned her away. But she didn't speak, and a tendril of hair gently (so gently) teased at his fingertips. He twitched his hand, claws curling, and the hair clasped onto him. He swallowed.

"I was cursed by- by Horde Prime, my benefactor. The True Image we are all made in. I was-  _ am _ \- defective. An abomination in the greater scheme of His Will. He cursed me to live the remainder of my days alone, in silence." He looked around the room, noting the exploded mess of metal shoved to one wall. "It is my sworn duty to return to His side. To leave behind this- this Beast image that has been forced upon me. Surely you must relate. They call you a Beast as well."

"I chose the mantle of Beast." 

This woman was always finding ways to silence him. His hand jerked slightly, tightening just a bit on the hair he held. She darted her eyes to the point of contact, the tapping freezing just for a second. He almost let go, wanting to yank his offending claws away, but she held on. Her eyes stayed locked on his entwined fingers.

"After my parents died. Like I said, the world was- a lot.  _ A lot _ a lot. And it just got easier, staying in the castle. I used to go to the village, at night. But people saw me, and they started to get scared. It's not normal to wander around wrapped in hair. But it felt  _ safe _ . Eventually, it was easier to just let people talk, because if they were scared of me then they left me alone. Then people started talking about a Beast in the Castle, and here I am."

"Why did you come to me?"

"Well,  _ honestly _ , a castle falling out of the sky is  **so** fascinating! I am a scientist first, Beast second! How could I  _ resist!? _ " Without her hair covering her, she emoted with her whole body. He even saw her toes curl in her boots at her excitement. He felt an unfamiliar tug at his mouth.

She looked at him, and smiled. "I never really meant for you to catch me, though. I wasn't really sure what to expect. I just wanted to look at your stuff."

"You wanted to  _ take  _ my 'stuff'."

"Weeelllll, okay, that too." That tug again, and he realized it was a smile. But clones weren't allowed to smile.

"I'm glad we did, though. Meet, I mean. And I hope, maybe-" she tapped again, this time meeting her fingers to her thumb in rapid succession, "maybe we can be friends."

Warmth blossomed in his chest and the smile was unbidden. He couldn't even muster up the will to care if Prime would allow it or not. He felt  _ happy _ . She smiled, soft and slow, as she carefully reached out and tapped her finger against his.

He turned his hand up, their palms hovering inches apart.

"I think, Entrapta, that I would like that."

* * *

In a little corner of a little kingdom, there was an odd amalgamation of a castle. Old stonework and sharp technology blended to create some nightmare structure. Legends were told in taverns at night, tales about a time when two castles darkened their doorstep, ridiculous theories about one flying to join the other.

They spun songs of some monstrous pair that roamed the lands at night, stealing orphans and haunting deep, dark tunnels.

Some said they were a Lord and Lady, cursed by evil magics and banished to unhallowed ground.

Others said they were not human, guaranteed, as the hundred- nay,  _ thousand _ \- arms of the Beasts would strip skin from bones, leaving only broken, silver skeletons.

But whatever they were, they could be seen on clear nights; matching sets of red eyes glowing in the dark, watching the star-filled skies.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> At least I had fun? Kudos and comments always appreciated, I am aware of all the typos and I am so so sorry. I have to work in 6 hours and I am an idiot.


End file.
